


Above the Law

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Detective Grantaire, M/M, Police Office Enjolras, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officers Enjolras and Combeferre are out on patrol when they're called to a crime scene that will forever change Officer Enjolras's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Above the Law

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait to publish this until I wrote a second part, but now I'm not sure I'm going to write a second part, so...
> 
> Usual disclaimer: I own nothing, and subsist off the tears of my readers.

Grantaire leaned against Enjolras’s locker and grinned at him. “Good morning beautiful,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

Enjolras chuckled, still buttoning up his uniform shirt. “Good morning to you, too,” he said, kissing him back. “How was the stakeout last night?”

Making a face, Grantaire picked Enjolras’s badge up off the locker room bench, holding it up to the light. “Boring as shit. I wish you had drawn stakeout duty so that you could have kept me company.”

Enjolras laughed. “Yeah, after last time, I don’t think Valjean would  _let_  me do stakeout duty with you ever again. Nor would Bahorel. It was his unmarked we were using, right? Did he ever get those stains off the seat?”

“Probably not,” Grantaire said, grinning wickedly.

“Not to mention,” Enjolras added, closing his locker door and turning to face Grantaire, reaching out to draw him closer and kiss him again, “this was an important stakeout for you, and you  _know_  we wouldn’t have gotten anything done.”

Grantaire pouted slightly, but his eyes were shining. “I suppose that’s true,” he sighed, then held up Enjolras’s badge. “But you can’t tell me you didn’t miss me.”

Enjolras snatched his badge back and hastily pinned it on to his shirt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but his ears were flushed red.

Raising an eyebrow, Grantaire said, “Your badge is shining like it’s brand new, and while you’re still technically a rookie, you’re not  _that_  new. Meaning you polished it. And the only time you clean and polish your badge is when you can’t sleep. Therefore, you didn’t sleep last night, meaning you missed me.”

“That’s quite a leap in logic there, detective,” Enjolras murmured, but he leaned forward to kiss Grantaire. “You caught me. Red-handed. It’s hard to sleep when you’re not there.”

“I know,” Grantaire said softly, wrapping his arms around Enjolras’s waist. “But I’ll be home tonight, and if you get off shift at a reasonable hour, maybe I’ll even cook for you.”

Enjolras smiled, a genuine smile, and kissed the corner of Grantaire’s mouth. “Is that a promise?” he whispered.

Grantaire was about to respond, but then Courfeyrac came in the locker room and shouted, “Gross, you guys! Get a room!”

Enjolras gave him the finger, but Grantaire just smiled sweetly. “Officer Courfeyrac, need I remind you that as detective, I outrank you? So shut your trap or I’ll have a little chat with Sergeant Mabeuf and you’ll be running the intake desk for the next month. I know Officer Prouvaire won’t miss you all that much.”

Courfeyrac pouted at him. “You’re no fun since you made detective,” he complained.

Raising an eyebrow, Grantaire said coolly, “And yet I seem to remember picking up your entire bar tab last weekend, so…”

Though Courfeyrac still pouted, he also stayed quiet, and Grantaire turned back to Enjolras with a sigh. “I should go,” he said, leaning in to kiss Enjolras one last time. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Definitely,” Enjolras said, kissing him back. “Love you.”

Grantaire tossed, “Love you, too!” as he walked out, giving Courfeyrac the finger as he walked by him.

Combeferre, who had been lurking around the corner waiting for Grantaire to leave, cleared his throat. “You about ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, giving one last longing look at the door before reaching down and grabbing his gear. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Clapping him on the shoulder, Combeferre said quietly, “I’ll take it things are still going well with you and Grantaire.”

It wasn’t a question, but Enjolras nodded anyway, a small, wistful smile spreading across his face as he ducked his head. “Yeah. Things are going really,  _really_  well.”

No one would have ever expected Enjolras and Grantaire to be friends, let alone to date, when Enjolras started at 8th Precinct straight out of the police academy. They had butted heads straight away when Grantaire was assigned as his training officer and it seemed as if they would never get along, but in the latter part of their first year together, Enjolras had been shot at, and Grantaire had…lost it, for lack of a better term. And they had discussed it, and their…friendship, if you could call it that, and one thing led to another and they may have had sex in the back of their squad car.

Grantaire had since been promoted to detective, which was something he had always wanted. And Enjolras was so proud of him, though a small part of him missed the days they spent together. Still, he had partnered with Combeferre now that neither needed training officers anymore (though they were still considered rookies, which didn’t seem particularly fair to Enjolras, though his attempts to bring it up to Chief Valjean had derailed).

They headed out to their car, making small talk along the way. When they got to the car, Enjolras asked, “So can I drive?”

“After last time?” Combeferre laughed. “Hell no. Never again.”

“We were in pursuit of a fugitive,” Enjolras protested.

Combeferre leveled a glare at him. “It was a ten year old kid on a bicycle, Enj. Now shut up and get in the car.” When they were both seated, Combeferre added as an afterthought, “And let’s hope it’s an easy day.”

The first part of their day was just that, writing a few traffic tickets, normal patrol activities. Then a call came in over the radio. “Attention all units, we have a report of shots fired at 1543 Maple Street. Please respond.”

Enjolras exchanged a look with Combeferre, who just shrugged and flipped on the siren. “So much for an easy day.”

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras said into his shoulder walkie, “Dispatch, this is unit 810, en route to shots fired.”

His radio cackled again and Courfeyrac’s voice broke through. “810 this is 814, we’ll be joining you there. Last one there buys donuts?”

“How about last one there buys a round tonight?” Feuilly’s voice cut in. “This is 803, we’ll be there too.”

As it was, Enjolras and Combeferre were the first unit there, and they got out of the car slowly, looking around. There was no obvious sign of gunshots or even a struggle. In fact, the street seemed eerily quiet and after glancing at each other silently, Enjolras and Combeferre drew their taser guns.

They approached the house with caution, and Enjolras knocked briskly on the door. “This is the police! We have reason evidence of injury and will be coming inside. Set any weapons down on the ground and keep your hands where we can see them!”

With another nod at Combeferre, Enjolras kicked the door in and they went inside, eyes trained for anyone.

Instead, they found the one thing neither could ever have suspected: Grantaire’s body lying on the ground, covered in blood.

“Grantaire,” Enjolras whispered, taser tumbling from his hands as he stared in horror. “Oh my God, Grantaire!”

He dropped to his side, fingers fumbling at Grantaire’s neck for a pulse, for any sign of life, but Grantaire was so still, so pale, and when his fingers only confirmed what Enjolras had already known, he let out a wordless cry, the most terrible cry a man could make, the cry of his very soul being rent in two.

Enjolras felt as if his entire world had just halted, had frozen completely in the moment, the moment when he was somehow torn between two realities, the reality in his head and in his heart where Grantaire was fine and happy and laughing and probably taking a nap on the couch in their apartment, or maybe even shopping for groceries to make dinner for him tonight, the reality in which Grantaire was  _alive_ , versus the reality that was trying to force its way into him by what he saw before him, Grantaire sprawled on the ground, a trickle of blood trailing from his open mouth to match the blood that stained the front of his shirt, that pooled under his body, the reality where Grantaire was somehow, inexplicable dead.

He couldn’t help but think, most perversely, of the time they had watched the movie  _Big Fish_  together, where Grantaire had mocked the moment when Ed fell in love and everything froze…

_“That’s stupid,” Grantaire said without lifting his head off of Enjolras’s chest so that his words were slurred slightly against Enjolras’s t-shirt. “Your entire world doesn’t just stop when you meet the love of your life. It’s bullshit.”_

_Enjolras ran his fingers through Grantaire’s hair. “Your world didn’t stop when you met me?” he teased._

_Grantaire lifted his head up to look at Enjolras, expression contemplative. “Of course not,” he said, but not with any scorn, and when he spoke next, it was almost shyly. “It was as if my entire world hadn’t even begun until I met you, as if you were what set my world spinning in the first place.”_

_The breath seemed to catch in Enjolras’s throat and he bent down to kiss Grantaire. After a long moment he said quietly, “I wish that I could say the same about you, but I…”_

_“You were preoccupied,” Grantaire supplied, half-smiling, reaching his hand up to brush a stray curl away from Enjolras’s face. “And that’s fine. That’s to be expected, really. We can’t all be as hopeless fools as I was when first I met you.”_

_Enjolras bent so his forehead rested against Grantaire’s. “You may not have set my world in motion,” he said quietly, his voice intent. “But you are without doubt what keeps my world spinning.”_

_Grantaire blushed slightly and tried to look away, but Enjolras kissed him before he could squirm out of his grasp. “I love you,” he said, and Grantaire just chuckled slightly, setting his head back down on Enjolras’s chest, tracing his fingers down Enjolras’s t-shirt._

_“I love you, too.”_

Enjolras had never realized until that moment how true his words had been. Grantaire had been what kept his world spinning and now, now…Now he felt as if there was nothing tethering him to the world anymore, as if the pit of his stomach had fallen away and the fact that he was still standing there was only some cruel trick of nature.

He paid hardly any attention to the next several minutes - or hours, it was impossible to tell - letting himself be taken outside, sat down, answering questions automatically for the detectives. The only time he showed any reaction was when he was asked if he knew who Éponine Thénardier was. His eyes flickered up to the detective, then dropped back down. “Éponine was one of Grantaire’s confidential informants,” Enjolras said hollowly, staring straight ahead. “She’s the Thénardiers’ daughter. Do you…do you think they had anything to do with it?”

“It’s too early to tell,” the detective said, scribbling in his notepad, “but it does seem like Patron-Minette was likely involved.”

Any more of the detective’s were drowned out by the sudden rushing in Enjolras’s ears, and he stood, lurching toward his squad car, not even seeing anything or anyone in his path. Combeferre grabbed him. “Enjolras, stop, where are you going?”

Enjolras stared right through him, tears streaming down his cheek without him paying them any mind. “Patron-Minette was involved,” he spat out. “I’m going to go - fuck, I don’t know, but I’m gonna go do  _something_ , Ferre. I know where Montparnasse and his cronies hang out, and I’m gonna…I’m gonna…”

He was crying too hard to continue, and Combeferre did not relinquish his grip on him. “You can’t, Enj,” he said, his voice shaking, and Enjolras realized for the first time that Combeferre was crying too, that all around them the rest of their friends were crying and holding each other in their grief. “I’m sorry, Enjolras, but Grantaire…he’s gone. And going after Montparnasse and Patron-Minette is not going to bring him back.”

“He was my whole world, Ferre,” Enjolras whispered, his voice breaking. “And I have no idea what I’m supposed to do without him.”

Combeferre’s grip tightened. “I know. And I am so, so sorry, Enj. Really, I am.”

Enjolras blinked and nodded before asking quietly, “Will you take me back to the station?”

Combeferre nodded. “Yeah. The detectives said you were free to go for now. Come on, it’s…it’s probably better that you aren’t here anyway.”

They spent the entire car ride back to the station in silence, and when they arrived, Enjolras drifted off in the direction of the locker room like a ghost. Combeferre sighed heavily and leaned against the reception desk, trying to figure out how everything had gone so wrong. He only realized that far more time had passed than he thought when one of the other officers came jogging over to him. “Hey, is everything alright?” the officer asked curiously. “Only Officer Enjolras just checked out a service pistol and then took off and—”

“Shit, he checked out a gun?” Combeferre asked, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. “Oh shit. Did he say where he was going?”

“No,” said the officer, his smile faltering. “What, is he going to go kill someone or something?”

Combeferre looked at him blankly, something like horror growing in his eyes. “Either someone…or himself.”


End file.
